


Body

by firs



Category: Deadpool (2016), Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Explicit Language, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Experimentation, Mental Health Issues, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:55:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firs/pseuds/firs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Wade stood naked in the smouldering rubble, feeling the soles of his feet blister in the heat and then immediately scab over. An updraft of wind parted the smoke, revealing the remains of the laboratory-- crushed wooden beams, cement slabs and some half-buried shape of a man, burned the shiny black of a hot dog forgotten on the grill." </p>
<p>Set during the origin story of the Deadpool (2016) film, will veer off in a different direction for a multi-chapter angsty extravaganza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Body

Wade stood naked in the smouldering rubble, feeling the soles of his feet blister in the heat and then immediately scab over. An updraft of wind parted the smoke, revealing the remains of the laboratory-- crushed wooden beams, cement slabs and some half-buried shape of a man, burned the shiny black of a hot dog forgotten on the grill. 

Wade’s vision swam as he crumpled to the ground, catching his knee on a piece of steel rebar. He watched as his skin split open, welled up with blood and then knit back together as quickly as it came apart. He reached down to touch the wound, gently running his fingers over the twisted scarred surface of his leg. He could still feel the shock of pain as the metal cut into his skin. _Just don’t think about it. Deal with it later._

“Okay.” He answered his thoughts, voice rough. “Chill the fuck out. Remember what happened.” He closed his eyes, trying to make sense of the jumble of the last several months. _Cancer, super shitty lab, Francis, big fire. That pretty much covers it._ He swallowed, noticing how painfully dry his mouth is.  _Francis got out of the building and everyone else died._ Wade’s breath hitched in his chest, making a conscious effort not to stare at the burned body only a few feet away from him. _Everyone died except for me._

In the distance the thin sound of a single siren cut through the air. Wade can’t help but laugh. _One fire truck. They’re sending one fucking fire truck, hours after this place burned to the ground. Some precious Mr. March on the Fireman calendar is going to get a nasty surprise._ Something nagged at his mind, wondering why this place wasn’t swarming with emergency workers. The siren was getting closer, stirring him from his thoughts. _I’ve got to get up, and get out of here._ He thought, willing himself to rise from the ground.  

For a moment Wade was overcome with a profound exhaustion that unsettlingly didn’t seem to extend to his body. He felt disconnected, like the time he’d gotten into his mother’s ketamine stash as a kid. He couldn’t wrap his mind around how he felt so physically stable-- he had spent the last few months on his back being tortured, and the last few days with so little oxygen that he should be legally brain dead. He repeated what was probably going to become his new mantra, _Don’t think about it. Deal with it later._

The siren was now so close that Wade could see the lights flashing on the walls of buildings from his vantage point on the hill of debris. Briefly he considered staying put and waiting to be rescued. The thought of being fawned over and taken care of a big burly man in a uniform was infinitely more appealing that wandering off into the cold morning, disoriented and without a shred of clothing. There wasn’t much of a question to what would happen to him though, if found. Although he would very likely be presumed a victim at first, him being the only person with a pulse at the scene would lead to endless questions and holding cells, possible jail time or institutionalization or government experiments-- Wade had to remind himself to keep breathing.

_Maybe I should just stay dead._ He thought, knowing that any news reports of someone surviving the blaze would make it’s way back to Francis. Neither of his options seemed ideal, but it was his deep-seated sense of self preservation that pulled him to his feet. This was the first time he had been outside in months, and he wasn’t going to trade it for a claustrophobic stint in the interrogation room of a police station. Stepping across the broken remains of the laboratory, Wade was once again feel the fire under the ground bite into his feet. His skin burned, blistered and then healed, caught in an endless cycle of agony and relief.

Wade kept walking forward, managing to clear the site just as the fire truck pulled into view. He was in an industrial neighbourhood, thankfully empty so far as the night slowly rolled into day.  One foot in front of the other, heading towards the purple smudge of the city skyline, Wade tried not to focus on the countless questions cropping up in his mind. Staring at a point in the distance, he repeated to himself: _Don’t think about it. Deal with it later._ He smiled weakly, _If I get through this I swear I’ll get that tattooed all over my fucking body._


End file.
